R.I.P. Zapho

Several years ago, back when I was struggling through graduate school, I lived in the basement of a very fine house owned by a good friend of mine.  His sister lived in the room next to mine.  The three of us (and later four, when a younger brother moved in) made a kind of impromptu family, and we all became very close.

Shortly before I graduated and moved out, the sister got a couple of small kittens.  Oh my god, they were adorable!  We played with them for hours and hours.

Time rolled on, and the kittens became cats.  She called the all-black one Alexander, for some reason, but the rest of us called him Zapho.  If you ever watched Sifl & Olly, that will make sense.  He was a good cat with a sweet personality -- he would friendly right up to you, given even half a chance.  Eventually the second brother would move in some other animals (a pit bull and a ferocious alley cat) who beat the living crap out of Zapho for several years, but that was after my time in that household.

Eventually, the sister moved out, and she took her cats with her.  By that time, Zapho was permanently traumatized by years of abuse from the other animals -- which was not her fault at all, since she couldn't afford to live anywhere else.  It was what it was.  He ate a lot, since it was his consolation.  But after a while, he gained a LOT of weight.  And today, she wrote me that his heavy weight had led to liver failure, and that she had put him down as a result.  She was really sad, and I can only imagine (from miles and miles and miles away) the tears she must have cried while writing to me.

As it turns out, I'm the only one with any pictures of Zapho.  And he looked a lot like Finn.  Who is still missing, and today was a week.

Young Zapho